Revenge Syndrome
by wilfred the pickle
Summary: Manfred von Karma attends Gregory Edgeworth's funeral and meets his son, Miles. Their meeting does not go according to his plan. Short oneshot, rated T for violence and creepy Kid!Miles.


**I got inspired by the song 'Revenge Syndrome' by mafumafu feat. IA, which is also where the title comes from. No, I don't own the song. Yes, I'm a complete Vocaloid nut. Go check it out of you don't mind the language barrier! :D**

* * *

The feel of the paper under his fingertips is too smooth for the occasion, Miles thinks with a dull sense of foreboding. It should be rough. Unfinished. But then again, his father was far from rough or unfinished. Not Gregory Edgeworth. Miles can hear the chatter around him, stories of what a great man his father is. _Was_, he reminds himself. Gregory Edgeworth was soon to be nothing more than a sack of thoughtless meat, rotting six feet underground. Not a famous defense attorney, not a loving father. Nobody.

Miles wishes it was _him_ in his father's place.

His thoughts travel back to the office of Dr Fern. The kindly psychiatrist had tried hard to help him, though Miles knew her efforts were wasted as soon as she opened her mouth. The woman had a soft, gentle voice, one that reminded Miles of his mother. It took everything he in those countless sessions with her to not break down and cry. But he hadn't, and for that, Miles is _proud_. Dr Fern told him that it might be a while before he was ready to go back to school, to be normal. Mile guesses she was right; he feels ready to jump out of his skin.

He takes a look at the people surrounding him; relatives he's never even seen before. The only person he recognizes is the priest, who is local and helped him and his father settle in when they first moved into town. He might recognize one or two couples who might have been present at another distant relative's wedding, but he can't remember their names even if they were.

_These people didn't even know Dad. What right do they have to be here? _

Miles tunes out for most of the service, instead gazing off into space. He only starts paying attention when his father's coffin begins its slow descent into the ground. He looks down at the funeral program, slowly caressing the picture of his parents, together and happy. He was an orphan now, he realised. He'd known subconsciously before, but now he truly realises. He's alone. Where does he go from here?

A hand presses into Miles' shoulder and he jumps slightly, the fingers feeling too hot, too unreal to him. A voice drones distantly above him, but he can't bring himself to care enough to listen. You're disassociating, he tells himself, but even his own inner voice seems muffled, like he's speaking to himself through cotton wool. _I want to go home_, he thinks, and everyone turns to stare. Apparently he'd said that out loud. _Oops. _

Then he sees nobody other than Manfred von Karma scowling at him from across his father's grave, and his mind snaps back into perfect clarity.

_He's here. Manfred von Karma, the prosecutor who beat my dad in court the day he died, is here._

* * *

The funeral concludes, and the 'aunt' that Miles is staying with tells him to keep himself occupied for ten minutes while she chats to some old friends of hers she hasn't seen in a year or two. von Karma gives Miles a meaningful glance and gestures to the pathway leading into the woods. Without hesitation, Miles nods. Once they're safely out of earshot, von Karma breaks the silence.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss, " he says with an air of insincerity.

"That's not true," Miles shoots back. "You're just happy you got what you wanted. "

von Karma gives him a smug smile. "I suppose I am," he chuckled mirthlessly. "Though you should know by now, a von Karma always gets what they deserve. Perfection, my boy."

"Why are you here?" Miles asks, not looking at the older man.

"Come back to Europe with me."

At first Miles thinks he's kidding. "What? No!"

The smug grin disappears off von Karma's face. "Really."

Miles shakes his head defiantly. "Nope. No way."

von Karma pauses, before smiling a giant, patronizing, face-splitting smile that looks far too out of place on his solemn, worn face. "Why not? You'd have everything you'd ever wanted. I've got a daughter, only five or so years younger than you. She'd make a fine companion once she gets a bit older."

"I said no."

von Karma's expression darkens. "I can train you to be something great," he insists. "Someone who people will remember. Someone who can-_will_-make their father proud."

That stings. Miles frowns and turns to look up at the prosecutor. "…A daughter?"

Von Karma's eyebrows lift for a fraction of a second, before he carefully schools his face into his usual indifferent expression. "Yes," he coaxes. "You can be her brother. You can have a friend. I understand you don't have too many friends here now?"

Miles grits his teeth and reaches into his back pocket. "Do you love your daughter? …What's her name?"

"Yes, I do love my daughter. Her name is Franziska." von Karma's voice is stiff and devoid of emotion. _Liar. _"Will you come back to Europe with me or not, boy?"

"Do you love your daughter?" Miles asks again, thumbing the sharp blade of the knife in his pocket.

Von Karma turns angry. "_I said yes_! And I will love you like a son if you come back to live with us too. Don't you want to be perfect?"

And just like that, Miles snaps.

"My life _was_ perfect until you ruined it!" he snarls, bringing the knife from his pocket forward dangerously. "Why are you even here? Why would you even care about the son of some insignificant defense attorney you killed?!"

Von Karma's face seems to go deathly white. "What are you implying?" he hisses, grabbing Miles by the neck. He doesn't even notice the knife in the young boy's hand until its buried deep within his abdomen, cutting through muscle and tendon. And it stabs through again and again, until Miles is sure that von Karma won't live to see tomorrow. He'll make von Karma's child an orphan, just as von Karma made him an orphan. This is the only opportunity he'll get to take out his father's revenge. And shouldn't a good son always do what his father wants?

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, before pocketing the knife. If he hadn't made me so angry, I wouldn't have done this, he rationalizes. It was the same with Dr Fern. _She could never have understood what I was going through. She made me angry. _

_She deserved to die._

Von Karma coughs and wheezes as he sinks to his knees. "How…h-how did you…?"

"Know?" Miles asks. "Know that you were the one that shot my father in the elevator that day? That was one hell of a Christmas present." He rubs at his neck before continuing. "I don't know. I just have a gut feeling. I always have a gut feeling around bullies, or criminals. Dad used to take me to the detention center and I'd tell him if his client was innocent or guilty. _I always knew_. I don't know how, but I was _always_ right."

"Edgeworth…" von Karma murmurs, a twitching hand clutching at his gaping stomach.

And then, in one final heartbeat, the forest is silent.

"You were right," Miles spits to the corpse on the forest floor. "von Karmas _always_ get what they deserve."

* * *

_"When we take revenge against another, we lose some of our innocence." -Patrice Redd Vecchione_

* * *

**Just a short, perky little oneshot before I try tackling the monster that is the second chapter of Breaking Habits. This is a weird little oneshot…but it helped me blow off some steam by killing that old creep von Karma. And an OC with no lines. Huh.**

**About Miles' weird psychic-ness about criminals and their innocence/guilt…that's just him having a big ego and wanting someone to blame for his father's death. And luckily, he was right about who killed him. Now I kind of want to write a sequel, but I'd need an idea for that… /hinthint**

**Look out for the second chapter of Breaking Habits soon~! .**


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